


Le Grande Amusement

by viceroyvonmutini



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Other, The Crew - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starbucks?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Grande Amusement

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from samgroves: Illyria plus a blue frappuchino.
> 
> BIRTHDAY PRESENT PART ONE. 
> 
> Also this is the first time I've ever written Illyria so I apologise for any out of characterness etc. Also this is the first edit so expect a few punctuational errors.

'Why have we stopped?' The group were well-practiced in ignoring their new ally. Illyria, however, was not. 

Despite her dissatisfaction, she followed without further protest in to the cafe.

'What is this?'

She ignored the stares directed her way from rather surprised customers. She was used to stares- admittedly stares of fear and awe, but stares were stares, and some part of her enjoyed the focus of attention. She had been a God after all. She was permitted a little narcissism.

The group stopped before the counter display, glancing up at what Illyria deduced was the menu. Her eyes remained fixed on her surroundings, flitting around with intense focus. 

Angel, Gunn and Spike engrossed themselves in the endless choices available to them. Wesley instead turned to her.

'Illyria, this is Starbucks.'

His solemn tone, low and soft, seemed at odds with the bustling atmosphere that surrounded them. Illyria tilted her head sharply in question. 

'Order what you want,' he explained, watching as she turned to the menu, scrutinising it in the same way she would anything else- the desire to understand this encrypted menu. The desire to understand what the world had fallen to in her absence. 

The menu made no sense. 

Illyria's attention turned to the squabbling vampires beside her. Angel seemed to believe this fight important. Illyria decided to forgo trying to understand why. Instead she listened, waiting for a lull in the argument before posing a question that promised to illuminate the whole debate for her.

'What is a Frappuchino?'

At her interruption, the two men turned to look at her. Wesley said nothing, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. She ignored his insolence. 

'A Frappuchino love,' broke in Spike, 'is an affront to my very existence.'

Illyria was fond of her new pet, and was thus inclined to view his opinion valuable enough to consider. 

'Now hold up: you're missing the point.'

Spike rounded on Angel, Illyria momentarily forgotten. 'What point?'

'The point, Spike, that Frappuchino's are delicious.'

'They defile coffee.'

'Says the man who orders _Soy Vanilla Lattes.'_

Angel was now very much in Spike's personal space as the two grew charged, pride on the line. Spike did not back down. 

'An acceptable combination.'

'Soy!'

'Overpriced milkshakes prove the human race edible again.'

'Okay first of all, don't equate Frappuchino's to the horror of Les Mis, and second: they are not. Milkshakes.'

Illyria had long ago lost interest in their meaningless spat, but Gunn quickly drew her attention. 

'What are you ordering?'

'You want me to...order?'

'Pick a drink?' Exasperation seeped into Gunn's voice. 'What are you having?' 

Illyria didn't reply, unwilling to admit her lack of sufficient knowledge in these matters, so Gunn turned to Wesley. 'Tell her to pick a drink Wes.'

'Just order for her.'

Illyria had already lost interest once again, eyes roaming the rest of the cafe as she fixed upon the decorative yet pleasing to the eye green shrubbery that lined one of the walls, and decided to keep it company.

The plants always spoke more sense, and yet these...festering humans couldn't even hear their song, too primitive to make it out.

Illyria respected the shrubbery. She did not respect Angel.

She ran a gloved hand over delicate leaves, her attention focussed as she politely listened, ignoring those who had brought her here. She would fight alongside them, she would follow, if only to understand the state of the world she had now entered and how to win it back. She did not have to stand for Angel, or his machinations. 

'Your drink is ready.'

Wesley's voice pierced through her concentration, though she made no more attempt to acknowledge him as she pulled her hand back from the plant. 

'Did she like this place?'

Wesley knew who she referred to. He insisted she use her name, but it fell like pollution from her lips, desecrated. So she refrained.

'Sometimes.' His voice was little more than a whisper, before he walked away. 

Illyria took her cue to follow him, weaving through the tables and customers as he lead her to a cluster of armchairs in the corner.

The vampires seemed to have cooled their debate, each clutching their respective drinks. Wesley seemed to have settled for black coffee- something she recognised- and she wasn't going to try to discern Gunn's.

She perched on the seat left for her, body stiff, before she noticed the strange blue concoction on the table before her. 

'What is this?'

'Your drink,' provided Gunn helpfully. He was definitely smirking, offsetting his seemingly innocent voice. He seemed pleased with himself as Illyria studied him. She would not be mocked.

'What is this?' she asked again, ever so slightly more forcefully. 

Wesley had picked up on her dangerous tone. 'It's a Blueberry Frappuchino Illyria: Gunn thought you might like it.' Wesley's tone was placating. 

Illyria's gaze fell down to her drink. 'You would have me drink this?'

'It's perfectly safe Illyria, there's nothing wrong with it.'

'It's blue.'

It was Spike who broke the silence, a snort escaping his control. 

'Looks like you colour co-ordinate, Old One,' he observed, tone mocking and tinged with laughter. 

Illyria studied the group, noting their various forms of amusement: even Wesley seemed to be enjoying himself at her expense. 

'Is it amusing to you, this drink?' She directed the question to Wesley, assuming him most likely to give her a straight answer. Spike's laughter increased, Angel joining him as Gunn sat back, utterly pleased with himself. 

'Damn right: it's bloody hilarious.'

'The colour matches your...hue,' provided Wesley, far more calmly than Spike, though he couldn't keep the amusement from seeping into his voice. 

'What was the drink?' asked Spike, turned to face Gunn in approval of the chosen beverage. 

'New special- Blueberry Frap.'

Even Angel let out a laugh, shoulders shaking as Spike promptly decided he would never let this go. 

'Blueberry Old One; Old Blue.'

'Your words are meaningless.'

Spike wasn't about to let Illyria sour his mood. 'Blue, you may not understand this but trust me: it's hilarious.'

Illyria's opinion of her pet was deteriorating fast, frown forming on her face. Angel, for once perceptive, noticed.

'Spike,' he warned.

'Oh shove off. You might be scared of Miss Blueberry Pancake here but even an Old One should learn to take a joke.'

'You mock me.'

'It's a joke, Illyria,' placated Angel.

'You demean my stature: my form.'

'They would never,' interjected Wesley, serious as ever and even Illyria felt the atmosphere change, an unspoken agreement between the group to never forget what was dead. Gone. Extinct. Something Illyria would never let herself understand.

'No,' affirmed Angel softly.

Illyria let the silence lie, watching each of them in their eternal grief, the stench souring their amusement. 

'You have mocked me before.' Her statement was addressed to Wesley. 'You called me Smurf.'

Spike lost it. 

'Smurf! Brilliant!'

Illyria snapped her head to him. 'It amuses you, these insults?' but Spike was too far gone to provide an answer, lost in his laughter. 

Illyria watched passively as the group laughed at her expense before making a decision. She reached for her drink with a gloved hand.

'You might not like it,' warned Wesley, watching her every move as the others lost interest and fell into their own conversations. 

'It affords you amusement. The stench lessens.'

'Illyria,' began Wesley, but he could find nothing else to say.

'You think I shouldn't drink this...milkshake?'

'Frappuchino,' corrected Wesley, softly. 'No. Do what you want.'

Wesley held Illyria's gaze, this time not backing down form the analysing eyes constantly vital information. Data. 

Eventually she looked away, leaving the drink on the table. 

'Drinking it does not amuse you, the colour does; I do not need to drink it. You would rather mock me.'

'It isn't spiteful Illyria.' Wesley paused. 'Disrespectful,' he amended. 

'You constantly forget your place, ants beneath my feet, and yet I must endure this. My power...'

'I'm sorry.'

'I would have you destroyed and put to death for your insolence.'

'Illyria, we know of your power. Fear it, even. We mock you not out of disrespect to your power, but because we need to laugh.'

Illyria considered for less than a moment before standing. The other's ignored her antics, more content to ignore her than acknowledge her largely unwanted presence. 

'Where are you going?' called Wesley over his shoulder as she began to walk away. Illyria ignored him, and Wesley's gaze returned to the table as he sighed. He was so tired. 

'You have no control over her,' observed Angel.'

'I have it covered.'

'She's unpredictable Wes.'

'She's an asset.'

'We can't control her.'

'She's a god, Angel. Nothing can control that.' Wesley paused. 'She's mourning the loss of the world. Give her time.'

'The more time we give her, the more dangerous she becomes.'

Wesley looked over his shoulder at the door, Illyria far out of sight: disappeared. 

'She's learning, Angel. She's...give her time.'

'Wes, she's not Fred.'

'Don't you think I know that?'

Angel backed off at Wesley's soft tone, unwilling to tread further on painful ground. 'You said she was learning: learning what?'

'Us? The world?' Wesley locked eyes with Angel. 'I don't know.'


End file.
